Broken Things
by Aries Draco
Summary: Ryou liked things that were broken, things that he could fix... angstshipping, twoshot, complete
1. Fixing Things

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters featured in this work of fiction.

Warnings: Twisted.

::Fixing Things::

Marik was still curled up in bed at one in the afternoon, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Ryou put the finishing touches on his latest doll, blowing lightly on it to get the paint to dry a little faster. It had taken him a week to finish, one of the more challenging pieces, since it came with a fractured body and a half-painted head. He'd fixed it, reshaped it, sanded it, coated it and painted it. All that was left was for the paint to dry and one final coat of varnish, then it could join the rest of his collection.

Throwing open the curtains, he let the light stream in to wake the boy on his bed. The windows had been opened hours ago, because paint fumes were not healthy things to breathe in. Marik winced a little in his sleep, turning away from the sunlight and pulling a pillow over his head.

A week ago, while looking through a thrift shop for abandoned Monster World figurines, he'd spied a certain group pass by. They all looked so happy, secure in their friendship, except for one, who stood a little apart, a little awkward, a little shy. So he had gone out to meet them, and to meet this beautiful sight, of whom he had only the faintest recollections.

They talked and he listened, and, when it was time to disperse, he found himself offering Marik a place to spend the night. One night became two, and two became a week, which left him here grinning sardonically down at the boy snuggling the pillows.

Oh well, let him sleep. They were up most of the night anyway, and, while Ryou was very much a morning person, Marik was not. Picking up the can of varnish and his newly completed doll, Ryou headed outside, to the balcony, shaking the can as he went.

He liked old things, broken things, things that needed fixing. Most of his Monster World dolls were salvaged, retrieved from thrift shops, from friends, from the internet, so that he could customize them to his liking. His sets were built from standard sets, from old sets, from abandoned sets, refurbished and continually updated as he gained more material.

It was a nice feeling, knowing that he had taken in the unwanted and given them the love and care that they deserved.

Carefully checking that the final coat of paint had dried, Ryou sprayed on the varnish, fixing all the work he had done on that little figurine. For the moment, he couldn't touch it, else he might leave prints on the fresh varnish. He would have to leave it here, in the balcony, away from sunlight that would leach the colour from it, until it was ready to be moved.

Marik was finally stirring, calling out for him softly. Smiling cheerfully to himself, Ryou went back into the room.


	2. Breaking Things

::Breaking Things::

Everyone was afraid of the Ring Spirit, but why was no one afraid of Bakura Ryou? Hadn't they seen his games room, the dolls lining every wall? Hadn't they seen his sets, so meticulously customized that it was fully possible to believe that one could live in them? But of course, none of them had seen Ryou working on those things. None of them had seen the delight in those brown eyes just before the completion of each item. None of them had seen that light die once the item was complete.

But he could understand why they liked Ryou. The Ring Spirit had been so comparatively violent and sadistic that Ryou couldn't have appeared anything but nice. Hell, next to his dark side, even _he_ seemed like a tame little kitten, and the same went double for Ryou, who was already kind in the first place.

Yes, Ryou was kind, and Ryou was nice. Ryou was patient and gentle and everything you could want in a person. But Ryou _scared_ him. Scared _him_.

That day… that day hadn't been a good day. Yugi had invited him out, and he'd had survive the entire day full of insinuations and snide remarks from dumb and dumber. He'd been so close to losing his cool, except that he had no right to be angry because everything was true. Then Ryou showed up and he finally had someone to _talk_ to without being periodically interrupted, so…

…so he had followed the boy home like a lost little puppy, without even considering the connotations of that kind of invitation. Because Ryou was nice and Ryou was _safe_. It wasn't until much later when he realized how badly he could have been screwed over in every sense of the word. Could have.

It was fun at first, free food, free lodging, games and someone to just talk to. On the third night, over the dinner they made together (it was his first time cooking something other than instant soup), he'd leaned across the table and made his mistake.

So Ryou showed him the RPG room.

It wasn't just the dolls and it wasn't just the playing fields, but the way Ryou went about describing them in loving detail. Like a god fawning over his creations. He hadn't thought much of it then, merely admiring all the work that had to have gone into something on this kind of scale. He hadn't realized it then, how much Ryou liked fixing things. He'd been too distracted.

He was distracted that whole night, by hands, by lips, by fluffy white hair and by the carefully blank look on Ryou's face when he carelessly wondered where Ryou had learnt all that from. They didn't go further that night, because the very thought of how Ryou _had_ learnt all that made him nauseous and sad at the same time.

How could anyone have ever believed that the Millennium items were anything but evil?

Over the past week, he had gotten to know Ryou, perhaps a little more than he wanted to. He'd seen how Ryou enjoyed fixing things more than he liked fixed things. All those figurines, perfectly preserved in their perfection, never again touched or played with, staring down from the walls at their white-haired god…

He'd seen it, the figure that Ryou had been working on all week. Fractured, broken and barely able to show its face. He heard Ryou get up that morning and he knew that Ryou was finally done with it. It would join its brethren in their glass cage. And Ryou…

He'd seen it, the figure that Ryou had been working on all week, in the mirror, when he dared to raise his head. Last night, they'd slept together and he knew that Ryou was finally done with him. Would he join the dolls in this glass cage?

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. And, unlike the dolls, he could control his own destiny.

"Ryou…

"I've cut myself."

His hands were so, so gentle and the worry in his large brown eyes was just so comforting. Marik lay his head on Ryou's shoulder as the white-haired boy bandaged his arm, giggling and sobbing at the same time.

If Ryou liked broken things, then he didn't ever want to be fixed.


End file.
